Come Home

by Lisa Scottoline

  I met him at a Starbucks.

  Jill wondered if this was the Starbucks where Nina had met William. It would make sense. He could have met Nina, started the affair, and after all that pillow talk, realized there was money to be made from the information and hatched his scheme. Or maybe he had even preyed on Nina, choosing to hang at a Starbucks near Pharmcen, hoping to meet a young girl who worked there, knowing he could charm her out of anything, including inside information.

  The door of the Starbucks opened, and Jill looked up, expecting Nina, but it was two van drivers in Pharmcen blue uniforms, laughing and talking. She checked her watch—10:30. Maybe Nina had trouble getting out of work. The door opened again, and Jill looked up. Two young women, more Pharmcen employees, entered the Starbucks, but they were distraught, their eyes puffy and makeup streaky. Customers in line turned at the sight, and baristas craned their necks.

  “I can’t believe it,” the one woman was saying, as they both sank into the first empty table. “It’s so sudden. It’s crazy.”

  The Pharmcen truck drivers walked over, and one asked, “What is it? Another round of cuts, in Corporate?”

  “No,” the woman answered, rubbing bloodshot eyes. “A girl we work with was killed. Her husband shot her, then committed suicide.”

  Jill felt thunderstruck, in shock. Her hand flew to her mouth.

  “Jeez, that’s awful,” the driver said, taking off his blue cap. “Was she a friend of yours?”

  “Yes, and she was really sweet. Nina was the best girl ever.”

  “No, no, it can’t be,” Jill blurted out, stunned. She stood up, but went weak in the knees, and the Pharmcen employees turned to her, astonished.

  “Miss, you okay?” asked the truck driver, in confusion.

  “No, sorry, this can’t be.” Jill tried to recover, walking over, stricken. “Was it Nina D’Orive who was killed?”

  “Yes,” the woman answered, teary. “Did you know her?”

  “Yes, I know her, I knew her. What? How? When did this happen?”

  “Late last night,” the woman answered, her throat thick. “She didn’t come in today, and she’s always on time, so Elliott called her at home, and the cops told him.”

  “Elliott?”

  “Elliott’s our boss, in Pharmacovigilance. He just called us all into the break room and told us.”

  Jill thought of the E in the emails, fighting a wave of nausea. Her mind reeled. She prayed she hadn’t been responsible for Nina’s murder. That Nina hadn’t been crying over William’s death and Martin had caught her. Or maybe Nina had confessed to the affair, and he killed her for it. It couldn’t be a coincidence, after last night.

  Jill felt her gorge rising, panicked at the frowning faces and puzzled stares, then grabbed her purse and manila folder, bolted for the door, and ran out of the Starbucks, reaching the edge of the parking lot just in time.

  She bent over and vomited.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Jill hit the gas and steered out of the Starbucks parking lot onto Weehawk Boulevard. Traffic was light, which was good, because she was in no shape to drive. Tears filled her eyes, bile coated her teeth. She felt wretched and horrified, and wherever she looked, she kept seeing poor Nina, so happy to show off her cute little puppy.

  Corgis are dwarf dogs, bred to herd sheep.

  Jill stopped at the traffic light, across from the blue-flagged entrance to Pharmcen’s campus, with its PHARMCEN sign and globe logo, in trademark blue. She thought of the laptop in her trunk, full of information about how Pharmcen’s confidential information had been bought, and after what had happened to Nina, she felt the need to talk to someone at Pharmcen, find out whatever she could about Nina, tell them what was going on in their own company, and show them the laptop.

  The traffic light turned green, and Jill took a left into the parking lot, followed the signs to the visitors’ parking lot, and parked the car, cutting the ignition. She blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and grabbed her purse, then got out of the car, retrieved the laptop, and hurried to the glass entrance. She went inside and walked to the reception desk, a massive granite banquette with a panel of telephones and computer screens.

  “May I help you?” The pretty young receptionist smiled, but Jill was too upset to smile back.

  “My name’s Jill Farrow and I’d like to see Elliott, the head of Pharmacovigilance. It’s important.”

  “Do you have some kind of appointment with Mr. Horton?”

  “I’m a friend of Nina D’Orive’s. I need to see him, about her.”

  “My condolences on your loss. It’s a terrible tragedy.” The receptionist gestured at a seating area on the right, which held a group of well-dressed businessmen and -women. “Please, have a seat in the waiting area, and I’ll call Mr. Horton.”

  “Thanks.” Jill went over to the waiting area and sat down in a blue-patterned chair. She put the laptop and her purse on her lap, composing herself. The receptionist picked up the phone receiver, pressed in some numbers, and started talking in a low tone, then hung up, gesturing to Jill, who walked back to the desk with the laptop. “May I see him now?”

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Horton is unavailable at this time.”

  “Can I see someone in security, then?”

  “What’s this in reference to?” The receptionist glanced past Jill, to a black security desk on her right, at the back wall of the lobby.

  “I’d rather not say. Can’t I please speak with someone in security? This is a matter of corporate security.”

  “Please, relax.” The receptionist motioned to the security guard, who was already on his way.

  “Hello, may I help you, Miss?” The security guard had a soul patch, which looked out of place with his Pharmcen blue uniform and billed cap. He wore a laminated ID, but his embroidered patch read BARRY RONAT.

  “Yes.” Jill introduced herself again. “I need to talk to your boss. It’s a matter of corporate security.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Can I just see him?” Jill could feel the heads turning, the men in ties and women in low heels eyeing her. “It’s not for public consumption.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

  “I’m a friend of Nina D’Orive, and I was supposed to meet her this morning, about an important matter.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss. May I escort you outside, to your car?”

  “No, thanks.” Jill could see it was useless. She didn’t know what she was thinking anyway, coming here. She’d let the police handle it. “I’ll go myself.”

  “I’ll escort you, Miss,” the security guard repeated.

  “Okay, thanks.” Jill walked to the entrance, sticking her hand into her purse for her cell phone. She went through the doors, found her BlackBerry, and walked to her car while the security guard stopped in front of the entrance and folded his arms. By the time she was in the driver’s seat, she was already pressing 411, for information.

  “In Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,” Jill said into the phone. “Please connect me to Central Detectives.”

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Jill stopped at a red light on Weehawk Boulevard, holding her cell phone to her ear, waiting for the call to connect to Central Detectives. She felt sick at heart and flashed on Nina, smiling up at Jill, with pride at her new promotion.

  I just became second-in-command. I’m a VP now.

  The phone call connected, and a male voice said, “Detective Ramallah speaking.”

  “My name’s Jill Farrow, and I’m calling about my ex-husband’s case, William Skyler.” She had to remember which detective to ask for. “I spoke last with Detective Hightower.”

  “Wait, I just saw him. I’m going to put you on hold.”

  “Thanks.” Jill waited for Detective Hightower, still upset about Nina. The traffic light turned green, but the cars barely moved because of a commotion, up ahead. White municipal trucks were on the scene, and water bubbled from the street, sloshing from a broken water mai
n. Cops were diverting traffic off Weehawk Boulevard, using a trio of parked cruisers as a blockade, their lights flashing. Jill heard a click on the cell phone.

  “Yes, this is Detective Hightower.”

  “Detective, thanks for taking the call.” Jill fed the car gas as the traffic eased up, and she turned left in front of the waving policeman, driving slowly through the spreading water.

  “Dr. Farrow, I thought we understood each other.”

  “I need to bring you some new information. How long will you be there?” Jill didn’t have time to see Detective Hightower before her noon appointment with Padma and Rahul, and she couldn’t postpone that again. “I have to see a patient first, but that won’t take long.”

  “I’m here all day unless we get a job, you know that we closed the case on William Skyler. Correction, we never opened one.”

  “No, please, listen. My ex-husband was selling inside information on Pharmcen drugs, to the tune of two-and-a-half million dollars.” Jill followed the traffic left, then right, and the scenery changed almost instantly, from corporate campuses to wide open spaces.

  “Do you have proof of this?”

  “Yes, I do. He was using his girlfriend, who works there, and I have proof, in his laptop.” Jill passed a white clapboard farmhouse, with bay horses that grazed in a pasture near the road, their heads down and their black tails switching at unseen flies.

  “Who is this woman? Is she coming with you?”

  “No.” Jill swallowed hard. She drove straight on the road, but everyone else turned right. She would have followed them if she hadn’t been upset and distracted, on the phone. “She was just murdered, last night.”

  “What are you talking about? Who said it was a murder?”

  “The Hoboken police, I assume. She lived in Hoboken. Her husband killed her, then shot himself.”

  “Oh, no. My apologies.” Detective Hightower paused. “Dr. Farrow, where are you?”

  “Parkertowne, New Jersey.” Jill’s thoughts raced ahead. It did seem coincidental that Nina was killed the night after her visit. What if it wasn’t what it seemed to be? What if it had to do with the scheme? With William’s murder? What if somebody else had killed Nina and made it look like Martin did it?

  “Dr. Farrow? Did we get cut off?”

  “No, sorry, I was just wondering if her murder wasn’t what it seemed and—” Jill didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t have any evidence and she didn’t know if she believed it herself. “I’m on my way back home and I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you this afternoon, please, hang up the phone. Drive safely.”

  “Thanks.” Jill hung up, then put the phone on the passenger seat. She didn’t know the route to Philadelphia that well from here, so she started the GPS, selected FROM MEMORY, and pressed HOME, because it was quicker and close enough. She drove straight while the GPS calculated the route, and the farms spread out, surrounded by sun-dappled pastures. Tall oaks lined the street, which narrowed to one lane, the yellow line vanishing.

  The GPS said, “Turn left in fifty feet.”

  Jill drove on a back road, and her fingers gripped the wheel, her body understanding something before her brain did. If Nina and Martin were murdered by someone else, it could mean that she had been followed to Hoboken. It could mean that she was being followed, even now. She checked her rearview mirror, and there were two cars behind her, a gray sedan and, behind that, a silver one.

  The GPS said, “Turn left in twenty-five feet.”

  Jill drove with her eye on the two cars. The gray sedan looked like the one she’d seen the other night, but she couldn’t be certain. The cars were driving in tandem, one close behind the other, as if they were together. She told herself it didn’t mean anything. Many drivers tailgated, and people got confused when there was a detour.

  The GPS said, “Please turn left.”

  Jill turned, and so did the silver and gray sedans. Her heartbeat picked up, but she told herself to stay calm, that all the cars had to turn, there was nowhere else to go. The GPS was taking them all back to the main road, with her in front.

  The GPS said, “Continue on the road for five miles.”

  Jill felt her mouth go dry. The road ahead was a long straight stretch of asphalt lined with old trees. She told herself that it was a beautiful drive in the country, that there was nothing to worry about. That nobody got killed in broad daylight, in New Jersey horse country. Suddenly the silver sedan sped up, closing in on her rear bumper, with the gray car, right behind.

  Jill’s heart leapt to her throat. She reached for her BlackBerry. The silver and the gray cars were trying to run her off the road. She pressed 911 and hit the gas, going sixty-five miles an hour, then seventy.

  The silver car accelerated, almost on her bumper. The gray car pulled up beside it. They both raced after her, riding her bumper, spraying gravel from the roadside.

  Jill sped up to seventy-five, then eighty. She needed both hands to drive. She held the BlackBerry against the steering wheel with a thumb. The call connected, and she yelled, “Help me! I’m being chased by two cars! They’re trying to kill me.”

  “What is your location?” the emergency operator asked, calmly.

  “I don’t know!” Jill looked frantically for a street or route sign but there wasn’t one. She checked the GPS screen but couldn’t read it this fast. “I’m near Parkertowne, in Jersey! Can’t you find me? I have GPS! I’m in a white Volvo. Help!”

  Jill whizzed past cows and horses. The steering wheel jerked and bobbled. A tractor in the field stopped as they flew by. She gritted her teeth and squeezed the wheel to keep the car on the road. One slip and she’d crash into a tree.

  The silver and gray sedans formed a solid wall, racing to meet her.

  “Help!” she screamed. She needed her hands and dropped the phone. She couldn’t hear the emergency operator. Whatever happened was going to happen in the next five seconds. The cops couldn’t get here fast enough.

  She sped up to ninety-five, then 100. Her heart was in her throat. She began to scream and didn’t stop. She’d never gone this fast in her life. The road swallowed her alive. Everything was a blur. She squeezed the life from the steering wheel. She aimed straight ahead with all her might.

  The silver and gray sedans rode her bumper at lethal speed.

  She floored the gas pedal, screaming at the top of her lungs. She couldn’t hear the operator. No one could help her now.

  Help me, God, I have a child who needs me.

  Chapter Fifty-four

  BOOM! Suddenly Jill’s car was rammed from behind. The impact whipsawed her against the shoulder harness. She screamed and lost control of the steering wheel. Her car went spinning and spinning down the road. Her tires screeched in her ears. She whirled and whirled forever, like a nightmare amusement ride.

  WHAM! The front of her car slammed into a fence. Her air bag exploded, shoving her back into the seat. She couldn’t see anything but plastic. Couldn’t smell anything but rubber. Felt dusted by a smelly powder of some kind. Her air bag deflated as rapidly as it had exploded. The car kept spinning in crazy motion, whirling off the road backwards, skidding sideways. A low-lying branch punched through the window on the passenger side.

  “No!” Jill screamed, flattening herself against the seat. Glass flew everywhere. The end of the branch stopped inches from her head. Twigs and leaves raked her face. The car skidded, finally stopping.

  The GPS said, “Please, make a U-turn. Make a U-turn.”

  Jill sat in the seat, stunned. Her skull throbbed with pain. Blood dripped from her forehead. She put up a shaky hand to stop the flow. Warmth leaked between her fingers. She shuddered as adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream. Her heart thundered. She scanned her legs and arms. Nothing was broken. Her left hand bled from a cut. Blood and broken glass lay everywhere. Her head hurt like hell, but she couldn’t see any other injuries. She was alive.

  Thank you thank you.

 
; The engine shook, then went silent. She couldn’t see through the leaves and the shattered windshield. She looked around to orient herself. The car was facing backwards on the road. She heard people shouting, then realized with a jolt that the drivers could still be after her.

  She twisted wildly around, ready to get out and run for her life, but she didn’t have to. The silver sedan was disappearing down the road. The gray sedan had crashed into a tall oak on the other shoulder. Its passenger side was buried in the tree trunk. Broken branches fell onto its roof and hood. The fence around the pasture lay in splintery pieces. The horses galloped away toward a barn on the hill.

  Jill could see the driver of the gray sedan, slumped over his deflated air bag. The sight brought her to her senses. He didn’t look like he was moving. The impact must have been horrific. She had to save him. He’d tried to kill her, but she couldn’t let him die.

  “Miss, are you there?” said an urgent voice, emanating from somewhere. “Miss?”

  Jill realized it was the emergency operator. She was still connected to 911. She didn’t see the BlackBerry. She moved the air bag aside, spotted it on the floor, and picked it up. “Hello, yes?”

  “Miss, can you speak to me?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. The other driver is still in his car. Please send an ambulance right away. I’m going to check on him now.” Jill edged out from under the air bag. Shards of glass fell off her forearms. She reached for the door handle and pushed, surprised to see that it still worked.

  “Miss, please don’t attempt to treat the other driver. Wait for the EMTs. I have your location, and an ambulance is en route.”

  “I’m a doctor, it’s fine.” Jill eased herself out of the driver’s seat. Glass tinkled as it dropped to the asphalt. She smelled gas and burning rubber. It hurt her arm to hold the phone to her ear. “I have to go.”